Page 293 of Phobia
We used a condom. I’m on the pill.It’s going to be OK.
Sighing, I pull my fingers through the matted mess that is my hair. When Dom took me into the shower last night, he neglected to mention that he didn’t have a hair dryer or even a comb. A hair dryer, I get, but when I challenged him about his lack of comb, he ran his palm over his shaven head, reminding me he didn’t need either. I towel-dried it as best I could, but the bird's nest was inevitable.
It doesn’t matter. It’s only temporary. I can handle temporary because it’ll be poker-straight again in a matter of hours. Normality will be restored.
Scraping it back and twisting it into a tight bun, I tuck in the ends to hold it in place.
Now it’s time to face the music.
Opening the bedroom door, I scan the hallway. I didn’t pay attention last night, but the stairs are easy to spot. The wooden floor feels ice cold compared to the cosy bathroom, but the smell of bacon warms the air.
Please, don’t tell me he’s expecting me to stay.He said, ‘one night’ multiple times. Not one night and an awkward breakfast.
Pulling back my shoulders, I walk down, feigning indifference, then turn the corner into the kitchen and freeze. A breakfast feast is being created, and a pile of toast is waiting to be buttered, but the man in the kitchen is not Dom.
He has his back to me, but the blonde quiff and slim build couldn’t be further from Dom. A new feeling of unease creeps in. Getting out of here and home was the only thing on my mind, but now I don’t know what I’m facing.
Pulling my phone from my bag, I tap my Uber app and edge towards the door. I’m going to have to do the drive of shame commando, but that’s now the least of my concerns.
“Oh… morning.”
Shit.
Turning and smiling brightly, I give a polite wave as I back towards the door. “Hi. Don’t worry. I’ll see myself out.”
“Uh… yeah… no,” the stranger says, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. “Dom asked me to make you some food… he had to nip out. Work,” he offers as an explanation.
“Right…” I nod, still smiling to hide my growing fear. I want to believe that I didn’t have sex with a total shit who would abandon me with some weirdo, but at the end of the day, I’m nothing to him.
Not such a big man after all if this is how he handles the morning after.What sort of club owner goes to work on a Sunday morning?
I bend down to pick up my shoes. “Thanks, but I have things to do.”Like taking my pill and spending at least two hours berating myself for my stupid decisions and having a self-imposed freakout.
He walks towards me, or maybe the door, and I edge closer to it too. “Dom really does want you to stay. He will be back… he just had to-”
“Work… you said.” I continue to smile like it’s no big deal, and I’m not mentally weighing up my chances of whacking him with a shoe and making a run for it. “Look, I appreciate the thought, but I don’t eat breakfast with strangers.”
“You didn’t mind fucking one last night.” His face drops as soon as he says it, and he drags his teeth across his bottom lip.
Something about him makes me think he’s afraid to piss me off. It’s weird, and it’s also too late for that. “Wow… thank you. Now kindly get the fuck out of my way.”
“Sorry.” He steps back, eyes wide as his Adam’s apple bobs. Holding out his hand for me to shake, he clears his throat. “I’m Billy, and I’m your chef this morning.” He smiles like a Cheshire cat, forced and a touch fearful.
I need to get out of this and get home.The constant ache in my groin reminds me of what’s at stake. Still, Billy’s determined to block the door, and I don’t fancy my chances of wrestling him out of the way, so for now, I’ll play along.
“Naomi.” I shake his hand, which seems to appease him. Pointing to the stairs, I add, “I’ll just go and make myself more presentable.”
Walking calmly up the stairs and back to Dom’s room, I re-open my Uber app, more grateful than ever to see a driver just eight minutes away.I’ll take that, thank you.I’ll also take a pair of underwear since retrieving mine is no longer an option.
Heading over to Dom’s drawers, I rummage around. As luck would have it, he’s a close-fitting-briefs guy because boxers would never stay on my hips. I grab the first pair I find and instantly feel more secure and far less naked.
4 minutes. Time to escape.
Descending the stairs on my tiptoes, I sneak past the kitchen towards the front door and grab my shoes. Scanning the area for my jacket, I almost groan when I remember I left it at the club with Kelly. There’s no time to go back upstairs and steal one of Dom’s shirts. I’ll have to brave it—the cold and the judgement.
“What are you doing?”
Jumping out of my skin, I spin around and face Billy. He has a wooden spatula in his hand and looks very confused.
